


Give Him What He Needs

by brokenlittleboy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (sort of), Barebacking, Bottom Sam, Comeplay, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morning Sex, Needy Sam, Riding, Season/Series 12, Sleepy Cuddles, Smut, Somnophilia, Sub Sam, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 09:41:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8662630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenlittleboy/pseuds/brokenlittleboy
Summary: Sam wakes Dean up for some good old-fashioned morning sex and Dean is more than happy to comply. They've been fucking for almost eleven years now, and it seems like every day Sam gets kinkier and kinkier, and more and more desperate for dick. Dean's not complaining--he's just a little worried someday he won't be enough for little brother's needs.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it had been awhile since I wrote some nice, simple, incestuous smut. So here you go. Enjoy.

Dean wakes up to a feeling of light pressure on his chest, but his hunter instincts remain sleeping, as any sense of danger is offset by the sweaty Sam-smell wafting into Dean’s nostrils like a perfect, customized aphrodisiac. His dick’s a lot more alive than the rest of him, and his toes curl as Sam’s calloused fingers do one last slow, rough drag from the base all the way up the shaft. 

 

This is how Dean has been woken up for the past two months, no matter if they’re in a motel or the Bunker, if they have people over (including their actual mother) or not. 

 

Sam wakes up first, as usual, and presumably spends a few minutes either opening himself up with lube-shiny fingers or just playing with his hole, which in turn is either still sloppy from a late night fuck or was stuffed open with one of Sam’s butt plugs. One of many, Dean might add. 

 

This is Dean’s favorite part. Sam grips Dean by the base of his cock, his knees on either side of Dean’s hips. He lowers himself onto Dean, muscles fluttering pleasantly around Dean as he sinks carefully down until Dean is balls deep inside of him.

 

Dean yawns, eyes still shut. He stretches, letting his hands land wherever they please as long as it’s on Sam’s skin. He brushes a thumb over one of Sam’s nipples, already pebbled, and the other squeezes the meat of Sam’s hip. “Mornin’, Sammy,” he rumbles, lips curving into a satisfied smile. 

 

Sam doesn’t move, doesn’t respond. Dean listens to Sam’s even breaths. Sam always takes a moment before the real sex begins, just to feel Dean inside him, just to be full. Dean doesn’t really get how Sam can enjoy it so much- not just in a sexual way but in an intimate way, a comforting way- but he’s sure as hell not gonna fucking protest. It’s the best shit in the world, top tier, skyrocketing over pie and cars and skin-tight lace wear. Which Sam also has a collection of. Yum.

 

Sam takes a deeper breath and Dean knows it’s time. Sam raises up, slowly, carefully, and the slip-slide and grip of his hole around Dean’s cock is almost painful, and Dean’s already aching persistently with desire, but it’s all worth it. Dean finally opens his eyes, ready to treat himself to the full picture.

 

It’s just as awesome as it always is. Sam’s naked skin is soft in the morning light, and every feminine curve and hard muscle is familiar, yet newly stunning each time Dean looks. His pink cock, which is far more graceful and slender than any penis has any right to be, is curved up against his tummy, and long enough that it reaches his belly button. Dean knows it won’t be a long one this time as Sam’s clean shaven balls are already drawn up pretty tight and precome shines at the tip of his dick.

 

Sam doesn’t get bed hair, so much as bed curls. His hair puffs out overnight, curling up around his neck and his chin, with a few stray strands sticking out here and there, which Dean will only ever admit to himself is the most goddamn adorable thing ever. Sam’s mouth is parted, only slightly, his head tilted back as he slowly rides Dean, the muscles in his upper thighs flexing. 

 

Sam’s legs as colt-skinny but powerful as all hell, and smooth and hairless. They’re often restrained by shitty hunting jeans, but when Sam’s feeling particularly good about himself and they have a moment, they get placed in garters instead, in stockings, in skin-tight jeans. 

 

Dean lets out a low groan as Sam straightens up, arching his back, moving more with his hips than his legs, wiggling his ass in tight little circles. It sends heat down Dean’s body, his fingernails digging into Sam’s skin and leaving little crescent moon marks. It’s enough for now, but Dean will be sure to properly mark Sam up later. There’s not much planned today. There’ll be time for marathon sex. 

 

The fucking noises, too, pun intended. The slight wet squelch of lube and the quiet sound of flesh hitting flesh as Sam speeds up, fucking himself onto Dean’s cock in earnest, is better than classic rock to Dean’s ears. 

 

Dean lets his hands run up and down Sam’s legs. He looks into Sam’s eyes, and Sam looks back, eyes narrowed and dark, long eyelashes turning his gaze into pure sin. Sam’s gone pink all over, and sweat glistens in the bowl between his collarbones. He’s got the tiniest, curviest waist of any guy Dean’s ever met. He’s this impossible blend of masculinity and femininity. He moves like a river but fucks like a mountain. Even the hottest girl alive doesn’t get Dean’s dick wet anymore ‘cause no one compares to Sam. Sam is everything.

 

Sam leans forward and slows down his pace, lifting up carefully until Dean’s cockhead catches against his rim. He squeezes his muscles and slowly pushes back down, down, down, until Dean’s eyes are rolling back in his head and his hips are fucking up in time to Sam’s rhythm of their own volition. 

 

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean groans, grabbing at Sam’s hips and planting his feet on the bed, using all his energy to fuck himself impossibly deep into Sammy. Sam whines and whimpers, his voice arching higher the closer to orgasm he gets. They move in perfect coordination, as always, a well-oiled machine of need and want. Sam curls over Dean and presses their lips together in an open-mouthed, sloppy, searing kiss, his soft curls brushing against Dean’s cheeks with every thrust. Dean moves his hands to grasp tightly in Sam’s hair, pulling in the way he knows drives Sam crazy. He uses his grip at Sam’s skull to bend Sam’s head this way and that until he finds the perfect angle for a breathless kiss, his tongue slipping between Sam’s lips and lapping into Sam’s mouth.

 

Sam moves faster, and the slap of his ass against Dean’s pelvis becomes more pronounced. The pleasure builds and builds until it becomes pressure, until it needs to be released, but Dean wants to hold on as long as can. He feels his balls drawing up and his cock twitches inside Sam’s heated body, seeking release.

 

“Sammy…” Dean says in warning, his breath puffing into Sam’s mouth. Sam kisses him again to silence him and Dean feels the smile against his lips. 

 

Dean moans, tossing his head back against the pillow. His fingers clench in Sam’s hair and his hips let loose, fucking erratically, losing rhythm as he comes. His cock jerks violently, spurting over and over, pulsing come deep into Sam’s body. His orgasm lasts a long time, and he pants through it, eyes closed, riding out the waves of pleasure. 

 

“So hot,” Sam grunts, breaking the kiss to bury his nose in the crook of Dean’s neck. He gyrates roughly, swiveling his hips. He sits up straight again and tosses his neck back, eyes closed. He’s doused in sweat. By the jolt of Sam’s entire body Dean knows Sam found the perfect angle, Dean’s cockhead rubbing against his prostate with every roll of Sam’s hips. 

 

Dean finally comes down, finally returns to his body, and has enough muscle power to reach up and curl a fist around Sam’s cock, hotter and harder than ever. It only takes two or three strokes before Sam is crying out in a slutty sob, his cock spraying porn-star perfect on his chest, his neck, his chin, and his lips. Sam keeps riding as he comes, and it hurts Dean’s sensitive cock but he can’t bear to see it end. 

 

Sam slows down gradually, his eyes open to mere slits. He opens his mouth and licks the come off his lips, swallowing it down with a bashful grin. He lifts off of Dean, inch by inch, and leans forward to give Dean one last sticky, salty kiss before he rolls over and flops onto his back beside Dean, his softening cock resting against his hip.

 

Dean reaches down and presses a single finger into Sam’s abused, open hole. He swirls the pad of his finger in his own come that slowly leaks out of Sam’s body. He brings a finger up to Sam’s mouth and Sam dutifully laps it up, his face so feline in pleasure that Dean swears he should be purring. 

 

“Mmm,” Sam sighs, turning onto his side and resting his head on Dean’s chest. Dean shifts and settles, resting an arm across the cut of Sam’s hip. 

 

Warm and sated, Dean can’t keep the smile off of his face. He’s just got it too fucking good. He wakes up every morning to the hottest person ever, gets to push into that tight, soft heat every day, usually more than once. 

 

It wasn’t always like this. When they first started their relationship after Stanford, Sam was just as shy and prudish as Dean had believed him to be, and he endlessly teased him for it. They had missionary sex, sometimes doggy style, and while it was fairly vanilla, yeah, it was still amazing.

 

They had their ups and downs, their fights and breakups. They’ve both had other people over the years, Dean a few women and Sam even fewer women and men. It’s been about a year or so since they’ve been exclusive again, and this time it feels permanent. It feels like a real commitment. Dean even google searches rings and bands every once in awhile. Maybe he could find one and engrave it with a protection spell as a pretense to gift it to Sam. He doesn’t know.

 

Every year of their relationship led to Sam getting more open and brave. Turns out Sam’s a god damn fox, not a monk. He doesn’t operate quite the same way Dean does--he doesn’t need sex, he needs a partner, someone to come home to. And once he has that trust secured, well fucking fuck, he’s even kinkier than Dean, and Dean considers himself to be pretty fucking explorative when it comes to sex shit. 

 

Sam’s got him beat on every angle. Sam’s the one who looks a drop-dead stunner in a sheer slip, Sam’s the one who gives Dean a remote and tells him to up the vibrations while they’re in public, lord christ, Sam’s the one who contorts his body impossibly so they can fuck in seven different positions in the Impala. 

 

Sam has him how he wants him so Sam’s appetite keeps fucking growing and growing. He’s insatiable. He’s a slut. If Dean told him to strip and get on his knees in the middle of the supermarket, he’s fairly certain Sam wouldn’t miss a beat and they’d be going at it doggy style in the vegetable aisle. 

 

Dean doesn’t think he’s been this sexually satisfied before in his life. He has Sam every way he wants him, too, and Sam’s been working long and hard (ha) on how to deepthroat, so Dean can face fuck him all he pleases and dump come straight down his throat. How Sam enjoys the stuff Dean will never know. 

 

While it’s incredible and shit, sometimes Dean has his doubts. He’s older than Sam, and he thinks it shows on him more than Sam. It might get harder to push three orgasms out each day, but Sam will still need something inside him, will still need to be cared for and ordered around and kissed. Dean may have a teeny-tiny itsby-bitsy worry growing in his brain that he might not be able to keep up with baby brother. 

 

If twenty-six year old him knew this was a problem he’d be losing sleep over, he’d probably throw a fucking party.

 

Dean’s hands wander as he thinks, and he cups Sam’s ass just ‘cause he can. 

 

Sam’s hair moves against Dean’s chin as Sam shifts to look up at Dean. “What could possibly be bothering you right now?”

 

Dean gives him a good-natured smile. “Shaddup,” he says, squeezing Sam’s ass and rubbing a finger against his hole and his balls. “Just worried I won’t be able to catch up with you.”

 

Sam takes a moment to process what Dean says, but once he does, he gives Dean a huffy glare. “Won’t happen,” he says. “We have viagra. You’re not that old, dude. There’s probably some, uh, supernatural stuff that could help, too,” he adds, coughing. “But man. If you promise to grow old with me, I promise to be perfectly content with less athletic, less frequent sex. As long as it’s you, my ass is happy.”

 

Dean thinks it over, feeling warm at the proposal offered in Sam’s words. “Deal,” he murmurs, kissing the crown of Sam’s head. Sam cuddles back in, looping his arms and legs over Dean’s body like he’s half octopus. 

 

“Good,” Sam whispers. “Now, get some sleep. There’s a dick I’m gonna suck later, and it needs recovery time.”

 

“I’m on board,” Dean says, “gonna eat your ass like pie.”

 

Sam laughs and slaps him lightly on the stomach. “You better,” he says, giving Dean’s neck a closed-mouth kiss.

 

Dean hums in assent, already drifting off. The smell of Sam and sex and the warm softness of Sam’s body is always enough to put him right out. The rest of the day can wait. 

 

He’s got all he needs. He’s got Sam. 

**Author's Note:**

> I realized that I almost exclusively write first-time sex, so I wanted to have a go at established relationship. I just kinda like to write their *whole* relationship out, but if I wanted to do that in earnest, it'd be a massive 'verse, so... here you go! *seal clap* I love Winchesters who have been each other's for a long, long time. I hope I did it justice in this fic!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, you fellow people of sin. Eheheh. Comments are appreciated. Hope y'all have a lovely day.
> 
> <3


End file.
